


Fast Away the Old Year Passes

by Bethann, Minniemoggie



Series: Legendary Friendship [12]
Category: The Lord of the Rings (Movies), The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types, The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Family Fluff, Father-Son Relationship, Fluff, Friendship, Humor, Spanking, Yule
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-28
Updated: 2013-05-28
Packaged: 2017-12-13 05:55:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 16,293
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/820779
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bethann/pseuds/Bethann, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Minniemoggie/pseuds/Minniemoggie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Gimli and Legolas spend time remember Yules from the past.  Set in Minas Tirith</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Please read the notes at the beginning of the Legendary Friendship series. It will help if you've read our other stories first. This was originally written as a Yule challenge. Sorry it is being posted at the wrong time of year, but this is the one that comes next in chronological order!

Beyond the thick stone walls of the Citadel of Minas Tirith it is bitterly cold winter’s night. A north wind rattles the windows and makes the banners flying high above even this chamber snap and strain against their halyards. In the courtyard of the White tree below us a hoar frost covers the ground.  I listen intently hearing the wind mourning the coming end of the year and whispering to me of snow to come. But for now the night sky remains clear. If I were at home I might be tempted to go out and spend the rest of the night watching the stars shine and dance but here it would likely be frowned upon as foolish and to be truthful even a wood elf is grateful for solid walls and the warmth of a fire at this time of the year.

I close the shutters on the windows of the chamber I share with my friend when we visit the White City and cross the room to his side, making sure as I do so to see that his pipe and mug of beer are conveniently placed next to where he has taken up residence.

It is growing very late but I am not tired and Gimli seems to wish to linger here before the fire, and I am happy to sit with him and enjoy his company.

It has been a long evening but one filled with joy for we have been reunited with so many who we have come to love and care for. It is ten years since we were all together at the end of the War of the Ring. Much has changed since that happy day, yet much remains the same.  At least I seem to remain the same, everyone else appears to have moved on, matured, changed …

As an elf I have years beyond counting before I am considered to be an adult.  My mortal friends, many of whom were younger even than I have not only caught me up but passed me by. First it was Estel, a small boy when we first came to know each other. I was the elder brother back then. Yet as a human child, he swiftly reached and surpassed me in maturity until he is now considered the elder and more responsible while I am still called ‘young’ and ‘immature’. Even my Hobbit friends have outstripped me. Merry is married, and Pippin betrothed, while Sam and Rosie already have a large and growing family.

I am fortunate that Gimli appears to understand my considerable discomfort over this situation. I am the youngest elf still here on Arda, I will always be the youngest. The queen, Lady Arwen is over one thousand eight hundred years my senior, her brothers, Elladan and Elrohir more than that. Other than me they are the youngest of our kind still on Arda, and they of course are half-elven, so that they mature more swiftly than an elven child would. So that leaves me, and while I may be over eight hundred years old as an elf I am considered very young. I will not reach my majority until I am a thousand coronari. At home and among my kin I am known as the ‘elfling’. It is not a name I like, but I know there is little I can do about it, for to my family and friends I am little more than a child, and though it pains me to say so, I also realize that my lack of maturity is problematical. I am a consummate warrior, a passable diplomat and leader, but I still have little control over my emotional state, which makes me vulnerable to impetuous and reckless conduct. I wish it did not but it is a fact and I cannot deny it.

As I say I am fortunate in my friendship with Gimli.  He is mortal, yes, but as a dwarf he is also relatively long lived, and he understands my situation better than any other, even Aragorn. He knows how it irks me to know that I cannot control my emotions as I should and he also recognises my need for support and guidance, yet he never pushes my immaturity in my face.  He merely offers me his broad shoulder to lean on and his hand to guide my faltering footsteps as I need it.

Take tonight for instance. I was happy to see all my friends, and I think- nay I know- I became a little too ebullient in my actions., Gimli said nothing, but came to my side and I was immediately reminded to dampen my fervour a little. I am grateful, very grateful and doubly so that he chose not to call me on my foolishness, for at this season of ‘good will to all’ I would not wish to be called to account in the fashion my dwarf usually makes use of. So I am still sitting comfortably and I hope that situation will long continue.

It has been a long evening, but a very enjoyable one, so many reunions, so much laughter and a few tears of course, the party broke up quite late, and I had thought Gimli would wish to seek his bed along with everyone else but he seems pleased to sit by the fireside and reminisce.

Part of me wonders if he is worried that were he to go to bed and leave me ‘unsupervised’ I would go off with the Elrondionnath to cause mischief in the city but presently I have no desire to do so. I am happy to be with my friend, and to enjoy his company for we have been apart for several months, each of us busy with our new demesne.

We have both shed our formal finery, which we wore for the feast. Gimli is sitting swathed in a deep burgundy coloured dressing gown. He has unbraided his beard, and his feet are encased in a pair of leather slippers and are propped up on a footstool. I have removed my robes and circlet and am now sitting on the rug in front of the fire in my undershirt and leggings.

“Well lamb that was a fine evening” Gimli growls.

“It was,” I agree, stretching my unshod toes out to the fire. “It is good to see all our friends again. The Solstice celebration will be very enjoyable.”

Gimli cants his head to one side “Ye mean Mettarë lad or Yule as our Hobbity friends call it.”

I frown a little at this reminder for it is easy to forget that we all commemorate different celebrations. It is true we all rejoice at the turning of the year and the return of the light, but each of us does so in a slightly different fashion. Once again Gimli seems to sense my confusion, “we may call it by different names” he chuckles “but we are all acknowledging the same thing aye and we are all grateful to be here to do so.”

I nod at this, for it seems but a short time to me that we rode out from the White City to call the Lord of the Black Lands forth. We knew we had little chance of success in the battle that would ensue; yet we went anyway in the hope that by doing so Frodo and Sam would be able to slip into Mordor unnoticed. And it worked!  Our world was freed finally of the Dark Lord, but at a terrible cost to those who dared the most. We have gained so much: freedom, friendship, better understandings between our races more cooperation and mutual respect for one another. But we must not forget those who made the ultimate sacrifice to allow us these things. Frodo never fully recovered from the ordeal he went through, and while Sam and the others Hobbits seem happy in their lives now, they all carry scars of one kind or another.  We all do, even my indomitable Gimli.

Aragorn spoke of those we have lost tonight, only briefly but with a reverence and such feeling that all of us assembled knew how much he feels he owes to them. Although why he feels the need to acknowledge their achievements by turning the Solstice into Mettarë I do not know.

“Are you all right Laddie?”

Gimli interrupts my thoughts and I am happy for him to do so. I give him a somewhat shaky smile and explain I was just wondering why remembering the sacrifices others have made to enable us to be here has to be acknowledged in such a strange way.

“Strange lad?” Gimli queries my words

“Aragorn was brought up by Lord Elrond in Imladris. His childhood was full of the elven ways of celebrating the end of the year. Why choose Mettarë now?”

“Because he is a man, lamb.  No matter his upbringing he is a mortal, aye, and king of Gondor. We are in a human realm where it is appropriate to do what is their tradition, not ours. Remember also Lad it is our differences that makes us what we are and also what binds us together. Boromir for instance loved this time of year and the traditions that Gondor. If we celebrate them we also commemorate his memory. He spoke of it often as we journeyed south together and Frodo was another who enjoyed Yule as they call it in The Shire. I like to hear of their different traditions and the ways they celebrate the turning of the year. Each to their own is what I say as long as we all acknowledge the joy in it.”

I ponder on his words for a moment or two seeing the sense in them. What right do I have to want to inflict my form of celebration onto the others? I should have known better. I do know better. “I am sorry I was being selfish not thinking of others’ feelings in the matter.”

“Selfish you? You are the least selfish person I know.”

“I have not always been so I am afraid,” I declare. “When I was younger I was once very selfish when it came to the Solstice and what is more,” I admit “I am ashamed to say I have never once considered this Gimli, but how would you celebrate this season if you were at home with your family?”

“In much the same way you do, I suspect,” he laughs, his dark eyes twinkling “although perhaps with not the same amount of trouble and mischief I am sure you indulge in.”

I pretend to be insulted but I can’t deny that for elves the Solstice is a time for fun especially for us younger ones.

I lean back against Gimli’s legs and he almost absentmindedly begins to card his fingers through my hair, loosening my braids as he does so that my hair falls around my shoulders. I gaze into the fire and my mind goes back to the many happy Solstice celebrations I have shared with my father even though the days darkened through my childhood. I cannot recall a single Winter Solstice that was not happy. My father saw to that, my father and those I call family, those who cared for me and wished me well. I have been very fortunate.

After a few moments of contented silence, Gimli nudges me with his knee, “I am in the mood for a story lamb, tell me a tale of a winter Solstice with your Ada one when you were young aye and maybe why you think you might ever have been called selfish.”

My friend has always shown an interest in my extreme youth, especially any indiscretions I might have committed, he tells me it gives him some idea of how to ‘handle’ my mischief now, and I know if I do not indulge him with a tale, he will pester someone else to tell him the story.

“Very well,” I admit defeat. “I will tell you the story. This one year in particular was the first time I realized that my Ada being King meant he was not just my father, but also the father of all our folk.” I can see Gimli is intrigued but before I begin I add, “ And perhaps next year you and I can go north and enjoy the Solstice with Ada. I had not realized that we had not yet shared this season with each other’s families. It is an error we must put right mellon nin.”

“We will do that Lamb, and the year after we can spend the night with Mam and Gloin.  Now tell me this tale of yours.”

Settling down I begin to do so …

“I was around two hundred years old at the time. It had already been a very long and harsh winter and we had not yet reached the Solstice so that there were still many months to go before the forest would be ready to share its bounty with us again. For some time before the Solstice groups of elves who normally lived all year out in the forests had begun arriving at the stronghold seeking shelter within the from the intense cold. The halls were crowded and noisy there was much to be done and organized and although I did not then realize it with such a large number of elves needing to be fed we were in danger of running out of food.  I had no real idea of this of course; although I was told often enough to eat what was given me and not waste good food. Yet I saw little of the real struggle that was going on to ensure all had sufficient food to eat. You would say I was young and spoilt and I was. My family sought only to keep me happy and ignorant of the worries that faced them. They made every effort to see to it that my life went on as normal. But one thing they could not prevent was the fact that Adar was often too busy to spend time with me as he usually did and I bitterly resented that fact.”

I settle back and let my thoughts drift back to that winter “It all came to a head a few days before the Solstice …” I begin.

 

“I breathed really hard on the glass and attempted to draw a snowflake in the resulting mist.  I glared at the result for even to my biased eyes it looked more like a spider than a snowflake. Angrily I used my arm to rub it out and then turned my back on the window to sit with my legs dangling over the seat and my arms crossed over my chest. I was pouting; I knew it and did not care.

Ada should have been there with me, but he was occupied with important things to do with the realm.

He was always busy those days. He had no time for me it seemed, and almost as soon as break of fast was taken he was hurrying off to do ‘kingly’ things. And that was another thing.  We usually had special foods for our morning meal at this time of year,-dried apples and spiced pears- but all we had today was porridge. I hated porridge, but I was made to eat it so there would be no waste.

Usually I would be granted a holiday from lessons but that year Ada said that it will be better for me to keep busy as he had lots to do and so could not spend as much time as he would like with me.

Yet I had seen him talking with all the strange elves that had come to live with us in the stronghold.  He had time for them. He listened to their stories, gave them time and offered them what my tutor said was ‘solace’ in their time of need.

I was not sure why they needed solace I just wished Ada would spend the time with me rather than them.

My tutor had left me lessons to complete but I did not want to do them.  All I wanted was to be outside enjoying the snow with Ada, cutting greenery to help decorate the hall or tasting foods in the kitchens. Sometimes I was even allowed to ride out with him through the snow to visit the settlements nearby to wish them a Joyous Solstice, but not this year.  He said it wasn’t necessary to do it.

Yet I knew Adar had ridden out.  I saw him go from my window, and many of his court went with him, although they were not dressed as they normally were for such visits. They looked like they were going hunting, although I knew it was not usual for them to hunt at that time of year because most of the animals are hiding or sleeping through the winter.

So I did not see why they were going out that day unless it is for ‘fun’ and if Ada had time for fun, why did he not have time for me?

My heels drummed against the wood panelling my frustration and displeasure at my situation growing as the minutes slip by.  Ada said he would ‘try’ and see me but soon it would be too dark and too cold for me to go outside. It was unfair.

Perhaps if I were to go down to the bridge beyond the Great Gates I could wait for Ada to return and he would let me ride home with him.

I left the schoolroom and made for my chamber where I put on boots and find a warm winter cloak, for I felt the cold more than the older elves and it was very cold outside. Then I made for the main doors.  There were so many elves there in the stronghold that I had little difficulty in slipping by the guards and making my way to the bridge.

I wrapped myself in my cloak and sat on a stone near the bridge watching and listening for the return of the hunters.  Snow was continuing to fall and I found the cold quite hard to deal with but I was determined to stay there and wait for Ada so I gritted my teeth and waited.”

 

“Eh lamb, that was a very foolish thing to have done,” Gimli scolds, “Had you fallen asleep you could have died out there in the cold.”

I grin at the loving concern he shows. Not many see this softer side of my friend, but those of us who know him well and are loved by him recognise the gruff scolding tone for what it is, caring!

“That I know, now.” I tell him “I did fall asleep, and when Adar and the others rode by I was already half covered in snow. Fortunately Brethilas spotted the edge of my cloak and I was found and carried back home safe in my Ada’s arms. I did not wake until the next morning and it was to find Ada sleeping by my bed, he had been there all night it seems.”

“And was no doubt frantic?”

“He was, and relieved that I was safe but determined to find out the reasoning behind my foolish actions.” My lips twist into a grimace, as I add, “He was not best pleased with me when I told him that it was his fault and accused him of not caring about me and having fun without me. I was a selfish brat I am afraid”

“As far as I can see, you are still a brat.”

I laugh at that, “Very amusing Master dwarf.  I trust I have improved a little since then. I certainly learned some important lessons through it. Ada certainly believed I was a brat back then and he was rightly angry with me.”

“Aye, or more likely angry at himself and frightened as to what might have happened to you.”

“That too, of course. Anger is often a cover for fear, as we both know. Whichever emotion he most felt he made sure that I realized how wrong it had been of me to do what I did. So, after we had um, shall we say … discussed my impertinence and I was standing up right once more …”

Gimli’s deep chuckles fill the air at my reference to Ada’s penchant for addressing my misconduct in that particular fashion and I cannot help but join in with his laughter before I complete my tale.

 “As I was saying, after the discussion, Ada explained to me what had been taking up so much of his time and why it was so important.

Because of the harshness of the weather, we had a great number of elves sheltering in the stronghold.  They all needed to be fed and cared for, and our food supplies were running low, hence the hunting party. It was not sport that took them out, but necessity and they had by their efforts managed to bring back enough meat to keep us all fed over the worst of the winter. The logistics of housing all those in need of aid also took up his time, not to mention the importance of him being seen by his people and his being able to offer them his strength and reassurance that all would be well, for many disliked being ‘trapped’ beneath the earth. With all that to do, as well as his usual duties, it was hardly surprising that he had been unable to spend as much time with me as he would have wished. Sometimes a leader has to put the needs of the many before the needs of the one, even the one they love more than life itself. I did not appreciate the full importance of that duty back then. I do now, that I have my own colony in Ithilien. And Ada decided it would be better for everyone if I was included in what was happening rather than remaining in ignorance so that I got to see the full extent of the difficulties we were experiencing. So many were making sacrifices for the good of others that I realized that I would be selfish indeed to demand more of my father’s time than he could give me. It was a lesson I learned well and never forgot.”

“So it was a pretty sad Solstice feast that year then?”

I laugh, “In point of fact no. Because of the meat they had brought back from the hunt, and the ingenuity of the cooks we all feasted well at the Solstice. There was singing and dancing, the hall was decorated as usual. it was a good celebration one of the best, for we shared it with so many, just as we are going to share Mettarë with so many of our friends this year.”


	2. Chapter 2

 

I settle comfortably into my armchair, thinking how luxurious it is to be the guest of a King.  Everything we could want is available here in this suite that I always share with my friend when we visit the White City together.  Even the fire was already crackling merrily when we returned from the first night of celebrations that will lead to Mettarë, no doubt having been built for us by some diligent servant.   It has been a wonderful evening, meeting old friends and celebrating together knowing that the difficult times we’ve experienced in that past are just that: the past.  The future looks brighter than ever and it was a pleasure to rejoice and make merry this night.  After so much excitement and clamour though, it is pleasant to enjoy some quiet time next to a warm fire with a mug of beer, a smoke and a dear friend.  Now if the lad would just close the damn window, it would be a perfect scene.  The chill may not bother him, but I can smell snow in the air and prefer that it stay outside where it belongs.  I am about to point this out when he takes notice on his own and closes the shutters. 

As he walks across the floor to join me, refilling my mug as he passes, I cannot help remembering our first days together. It is ten years to the month when the fellowship was formed and only one month later when the two of us became bound together under difficult circumstances.  More than once during those first weeks I questioned my sanity in agreeing to what I did, but now I recall that time as possibly the most important time in my life.  I never expected to have a child for I had chosen the life of a warrior and did not wish to inflict that uncertainty on a wife.  And if I did ever have a son, I would never have dreamed him to be beardless and pointy eared and stand head and shoulders above me, but a dwarf never knows what life will hand him, and I have learned to roll with the punches as it were. It has been more pleasure than hardship, for we truly have become as close as a father and son. I have but one regret and that is that I will not live to see him achieve full adulthood for that will take another two hundred years or so.  But instead of worrying over what cannot be helped I realize I must instead focus on creating good memories that he will be able to look back on fondly when we must be parted.   We must always make the most of the time we have together. 

This is what I am thinking when Legolas sits on the floor in front of me and leans his head against my knee in a familiarly endearing fashion.  Automatically my hand swims through his hair, loosening his braids and causing his hair to spill forward over his shoulders.  I smile as he sighs with pleasure and leans into my caress in an almost feline motion, and we begin to discuss the evening’s festivities and the foreign but interesting customs the men of this city partake in.  We agree that we must celebrate Mid Winter’s Day, or Winter Solstice as it is termed by my elfling, in Eryn Lasgalen with Lord Thranduil next year and the following year with my family.  It is something we haven’t done as of yet and an experience I am looking forward to.  Whatever we wish to call it, we are all celebrating the same thing: the rebirth of the conquering sun and the beginning of the lengthening days.   Even those of us who dwell inside mountains and caves much of our lives recognize the importance of the renewed life that the light brings and rejoice in celebrating its return. 

We talk for a bit and Legolas ends up apologizing for selfishly wishing for the celebrations in Minas Tirith to be as he is accustomed to.  I brush his comment off as entirely unnecessary.  He is always his own worst critic.

“You, selfish?  You are the least selfish person I know,” I say.  That is the truth. Heedless and reckless he might be, but selfish never.  And yet he insists that there was a time when it was so and I can sense a story here somewhere.  It doesn’t take much coercing to get him to tell it.  As he tells the tale, I shake my head at certain points and think to myself that he perhaps hasn’t changed as much as he would like to think. He is still often careless and unconcerned about real dangers, though I suspect he will remember that specific failing enough not to repeat it after having frightened his poor father half to death.  I know from personal experience that fear can drive a person to come across rather fiercely even if he does not mean to do so. 

As his tale comes to a close I can see that what happened all those years ago really had very little to do with selfishness. It was merely childishness and lack of understanding that drove him to behave the way he did at the time.  Had the situation been explained to him in the first place, likely a lot of trouble and hurt feelings could have been avoided.  It puts me in mind of one of the most memorable winters of my childhood; one where a little explanation could have eased my mind and saved me a lot of heartache.  That year turned out to be one of the happiest Mid Winter celebrations of my life but it didn’t begin that way.  I chuckle a bit now, remembering what a clueless dwarfling I was about certain facts of life at the time.

“Gimli, what are you thinking of?”  Legolas’ voice interrupts my thoughts.

“I was thinking how much trouble and heartache could be avoided if adults weren’t always trying to protect children from the truth.  For instance in your case had you been told the situation from the beginning instead of having been ‘protected’ from the unhappy facts, you would have understood and not felt neglected.  Of course that doesn’t excuse your foolishness that day!  Still honesty is always the best policy I say even if the truth is ugly or difficult to discuss.  Even young ones should be told the truth.”  I know I am in danger of being accused of stepping up on a soapbox, but I cannot seem to help myself.  This is something I have felt very strongly about most of my life and I realize now that that belief stems from one particular event that happened many years ago when I believed my mother was in grave danger.   Though it is something I can smile about now, at the time it was very traumatic and very real to me.  Even now I can recall the panic and fear and the following relief and joy when I found out I was mistaken.   

My expression must give my thoughts away for Legolas shakes my arm to get me out of my reverie.

“Elvellon, don’t look like that,” he laughingly insists. “We are supposed to be having fun. You are far too serious.”

“Aye ye’re right, Lad,” I say smiling back at him.  “I was only remembering a Mid Winter’s celebration from long ago.”

“Was it an unhappy one?” he asks a trifle worriedly.

“Nay, it was one of the most joyous of my life.  It just didn’t begin that way.”

“Tell me,” he says simply, so I begin.

 

“I remember it like it was yesterday though I was very young at the time.  I was nine years old so I hadn’t even begun formal schooling yet, though both of my parents were diligent teachers at home.  For most of my childhood the beginning of the Mid Winter celebrations were marked by us children having a break in lessons for a time, but this happened before I was even old enough for that so to me Mid Winters Day at that time was indicated by something else.  My mother, as you know is a famous cook and Dwarven festivals are always filled with feasting.  Several days before the Mid Winter’s Day celebration, Mam would begin cooking and filling our pantries with all sorts of tasty confections.  Dried fruit pies, heavily frosted cakes, and all sorts of dainties that were made especially for this season.  Our shelves were soon lined with colorful molded sugar candies, pulled buttered taffies, rich fudge, and sugared dates and nuts.  Most of them had to be saved for the feasting, but I always wanted to help her with the making for it meant opportunities for pre party tasting and Mam, of course, is never stingy with her samples. “

“She is very generous indeed,” Legolas agrees.  “Perhaps we should spend the Solstice with her next year after all!”

“She would be thrilled with the prospect, I am sure, though she’d likely have ye too sick from tasting to attend the feast.  I’ve never seen the likes of how she spoils you.”

“I can hardly help it if she likes me best,” he shrugs, smiling sweetly.

I laugh and lightly flick his ear. “Impertinent elfling!  Do ye want to hear this tale or not?”

“Listening,” he says ducking out of my reach. I shake my head at his antics and continue.

“As I said, a pantry full of sweets signalled the coming of Mid Winter’s Day so the day I am thinking of seemed like an ordinary day to me for nothing out of our usual routine was taking place other than the fact that Mam did not appear at breakfast.  Instead my father was in the kitchen trying his hand at making  some strange concoction he swore was supposed to be hotcakes.  He distractedly placed them on my plate, but he did not sit down himself. He merely moved about the kitchen as if he were lost and confused which didn’t surprise me since as far as I knew he had never set foot in front of the stove before.

“ Of course I demanded to know where Mam was and was told that she would be busy most of the day, perhaps until tomorrow even and I would not be able to see her.  Now that was perplexing indeed, for I could see her shoes were still next to the door and the ties she always wore in her hair were still in a neat pile on a small table.  I had never known my mother to go out of our family dwelling without her ribbons tied securely in her braids and where would she possibly go without shoes?  I did not ask, though, for I could see Gloin did not wish to discuss it just then, so I  just waited for a plausible explanation.  None came.  Instead, shortly after breakfast there was a knock at our door and two familiar ladies came in. The first I was very familiar with. She was my mother’s second cousin and closest friend, Lady Nurila.  The other was a very startling figure I had seen a few times before:  the Yarb Mistress Valdred.” 

“What is a Yarb Mistress?” Legolas asks.

“A Yarb  Mistress is a healer of sorts, I guess you could say, but not one who deals with injuries or common ailments so much.  It is an art that is passed from mothers to daughters usually, though sometimes if the Yarb Mistress has no daughter, she will choose a young girl to train in her arts.  Some might say she is an herbalist or naturalist who knows how to combine brews and teas for certain situations.  Some believe Yarb Mistresses are knowledgeable in spells and magic, but I am not sure how much truth there is to that.  Either way, the Yarb Mistress was respected but a little feared as well.  Most folks would walk a wide circle around Mistress Valdred if she were spotted out and about which was a rare occurrence indeed, for she mostly kept to herself. But when a family was desperate for help, she was the one they called.  Sometimes it was when someone did not improve under the conventional healer’s care or even more commonly she was sent for to ease the passing of those who were beyond help.   I knew this because I had seen her before when my grandfather was dying.  He had been crying out in agony for hours.  Mistress Valdred came and did not speak to anyone, but just muttered to herself under her breath and then entered his bedchamber.  Within minutes he quieted under her care and she left as silently as she had entered without so much as a greeting.  The next morning he was dead.”

“So what was she doing in your place, then?”

“Well Lamb, I was wondering that exact thing myself, but there was no time to ask  for my father just took Mistress Valdred’s package, a bundle tied up in what looked to be a large blanket, and lead her into my parents bedchamber.  He looked decidedly worried, I thought, and I was about to follow him when Lady Nurila took me by the hand and lead me out to the corridor and all the way to the apartment she shared with her husband and son.  Kibid.  On the way she told me I would be staying with her son that day. She gave no explanation as to why, but just dropped me at her place and hurried on her way.   By then I was even more perplexed at this strange situation and when I walked inside it got even worse.

Lady Nurila’s cupboards and tables were loaded with sweets and her hearth was strung with swags of rich purple fabric tied back with gold and silver ribbons.  This was very puzzling so I asked Kibid why his family’s place looked like it was being prepared for the holidays.  He gave me an odd look and told me that Mid Winters Day was in two days!  I could hardly believe it, for Mam hadn’t done a thing to prepare and because of that I had not even known what time of year it was.  At first I thought perhaps Kibid might be only teasing me, but it was clear that his mother had been making feast preparations for days.  I thought about all the strange things that had happened lately. Besides not preparing for the holidays, I remembered then that Mam had seemed more tired than usual over the last few days.  I recalled her friends inquiring of her health more than usual and my father’s distracted, worried face from this morning.  And Mistress Valdred!  The Yarb Mistress’ appearance proved it: Mam was dying and no one was planning to tell me!  Well I had no intention of waiting around to see what was going to happen.  I burst out into the corridor and ran as fast as I could all the way back home.

I arrived at our door just as Yarb Mistress Valdred was leaving.  That could only mean one thing: Man would be dead by morning, just as had happened with my grandfather.  I choked on a sob as I ran inside.  Lady Nurila turned toward me, startled, from where she was tending something in a basket.

“What are you doing here, Child and whatever is the matter?” she asked.

“Is Mam still alive?” I demanded fiercely.

Lady Nurila looked surprised.  “Of course she is, Lad.  Come, you shall see her.”  She opened the bedchamber door and sure enough Mam was in there resting against her pillow.  She looked pale and her damp hair was unkempt, but I could hear her soft snoring so I knew that she was only sleeping. What I did not know was how long that would last, though I felt a little better.  Lady Nurila would not let me go to her just then, but said she had something else I might like to see.  She led me to the common room and showed me the basket in the middle of the floor. Cautiously I looked inside and when I did, you could have knocked me over with a feather, I was so surprised.  Inside there was the tiniest dwarfling baby I had ever seen. It flailed its little hands around, smacking itself in the face as if it had no control of its little limbs.  Red fuzz covered its little head and its eyes were clamped tightly shut. 

“Lady Dorbryn!” Legolas guesses triumphantly.

“Aye, Lad. That is right, but back then I had no idea what had happened. You see I had not been told that Mam was expecting a baby. I wondered who this creature belonged to and what it had to do with all the mysterious happenings that had been taking place. I did not know then that Mistress Valdred was also a midwife.

“Where did you get it?” I wanted to know.

Lady Nurila laughed. “Mistress Valdred brought her to your mother in her bundle,” she explained. “This is your new sister, Child. Is she not beautiful?”

She was very interesting, but I was still sceptical. I wanted to know where my father was and why Mam was sleeping in the middle of the day, a thing she had never done before.  Lady Nurila told me Gloin was no doubt out spreading the news to his friends and she would leave it to Mam to explain everything else.

 I spent the rest of the afternoon examining this baby sister and was pleased to discover that she would wrap her tiny fist tightly around my finger when I placed it in her hand. 

After a while both my new sister and I were brought to my mother’s bedside.  She beckoned to me as she took the baby in her arms and I was relieved when she smiled and allowed me to crawl up beside her.  I still was unsure of what had taken place and was not entirely convinced that Mam was going to make it. I had not connected how a baby in a bundle could make a mother need to stay in bed all day.

“You are sure you are not going to die?”  I asked her, but she just laughed and pulled me close.

“I’ve no notion of dying, Lamb, though I did not feel too well earlier when your sister was coming.”

“Why did the Yarb Mistress bringing a baby in her bundle make you feel unwell,” It truly didn’t make sense, but Mam was quick to set me straight.

“Mistress Valdred did not bring the baby in her bundle, my son.  A baby dwarfling grows inside its mother just like a kitten or any other animal does.”

“Oh,” It was all I could think of to say for I had seen kittens being born on more than one occasion and did not like to think of something so messy being associated with my mother and my new little sister.  Fortunately, it did not occur to me to think that I was born in the same way myself. I just asked the next most important question and that was if we were still planning to celebrate Mid Winter’s Day.  That Mam was going to live was a relief, but just then I only wanted to change the subject.

“I do not blame you,” Legolas says wrinkling his nose.  I have to laugh at his expression for I know how he feels.  Even today I’d rather not think of such things in connection with my mother and I can see he would like to talk of something else as well.    “So did you celebrate that year?” he asks. 

“Indeed we did!  Mam had not prepared for the feasts as was the usual custom, for she had been in the final stages of her time, but we were swarmed with visitors bearing gifts of food and presents for Dorbryn.  Our friends were very generous indeed and all were in an extra merry mood, for the birth of a daughter is something to celebrate among Durin’s folk.  Girls are rare, you see, so all were pleased for our family.  This also meant that I got hoards of gifts myself. Besides the usual Mid Winter’s gifts, there were the gifts for our new addition and that meant every neighbor who brought her a gift brought me one as well for no one wanted me to feel left out.  Children are very cherished among my people, and all were concerned that I might be jealous of the attention given to my baby sister.  Of course that was not the case. With all the gifts being showered on me I thought she was the best good luck charm ever.  I hoped Mam would have a baby every year!”

Legolas laughs at this. “A good story with a happy ending!” he states with a satisfied smile. “Though you are right. It would have been better had it been explained to you what was going on in the first place.  I cannot believe you fell for that bit about the baby coming in a bundle!  ”

“I was a child and I trusted the adults around me to tell the truth.  Why is that so hard to believe?”

“I don’t know. I guess I have trouble picturing you as a gullible child is all,” he says. “But it was a good story, Elvellon.  Thank you for telling me about it.”

“You are most welcome, Lamb. Now my mug is empty, but I think there is a bottle of wine here somewhere that we might open. Unless you are ready to sleep that is?” I start to rise, but Legolas jumps to his feet before I can manage it.

“I’ll get it,” he says, pushing me back into my chair and handing me my pipe.  Ah! What a good Lad he is. I settle back in and await his return.

 

 

 

 

 


	3. chapter 3

 

 

I pour us both a goblet of wine.  It is a sweet fruity red, not as potent as Dorwinnion, which my Adar favours so much, but reasonably palatable and a pleasant drink to quaff while we share stories together before the fire.

I found Gimli’s tale of the birth of his sister Lady Dorbryn very amusing, as was his confusion over what was happening to Mam. The birth of a daughter is a wonderful thing amongst the dwarves. To my folk the birth of any child is a blessing, whatever race they come from yet I am still young enough to feel discomfort at the actual details of birth. I do not wish to think of Mam in such circumstances nor anyone else, although my senses tell me that Eowyn is carrying Faramir’s heir. I have said nothing of this to anyone though I believe that Arwen recognises what is happening, for mortal kind do not appear to recognize or appreciate the elven ability to sense a new life as swiftly as we do.

 I listen to the sound of the wind beyond our chambers, it is growing in strength, and I suspect when we wake it will be to a land transformed by snow.

Yet at least here we can enjoy the comforts that Minas Tirith has to offer.  We are at ease  and the surroundings we find ourselves in are luxurious. Even at home I could expect to receive no more than is on offer here. It is that thought that reminds me of a winter some years ago that I shared with my friend.

My smile must have become reminiscent for Gimli wants to know what I am smiling over.

“I was recalling the night we spent in the woods of my Adar’s realm, two winters after the defeat of Sauron.”

Gimli nods at my words, “Aye lad that was a bad winter indeed. I still think that it was Sauron’s last throw of the dice to try and bring further destruction to Middle-Earth. That winter was not natural.”

I have to agree with my friend.  The weather we encountered as we attempted to reach my father’s halls was far beyond the norm.

Yet I also know that had I not insisted on us setting out from Edoras Gimli and I would never have been caught out in such extreme weather. Almost as if he is reading my mind Gimli speaks and tells me I was not to blame for our decision to set forth

“We both knew the risk we were taking lamb,” he tells me. Yet I know better. Gimli would never have begun that journey had I not been so desperate to reach home.

My thoughts seem to be transparent for Gimli waves a finger under my nose.  “Enough of that. We both chose to set forth, and we were neither of us responsible for the situation we found ourselves in. So, stop beating yourself up over it, else I might have to take a hand, quite literally in getting you to see sense.”

I manage to smile at this ‘threat’ yet my mind keeps returning to that winter night, just two years after the defeat of Sauron.

 

The wind howled, frozen rain far worse than snow lashed at the two of us as we traveled. Although it was scarcely an hour after noon, the sky was dark; a north wind whipped our hair and attempted to slip beneath our cloaks to add to the almost unnatural chill.

Too late to turn back, too far to press on. I wished that I had never insisted that we make the attempt to reach the stronghold. Yet when we started out from Edoras the weather was fair, there was no hint of snow or gale force winds. I know I wanted desperately to be home with Ada for the Solstice but I would never have suggested we travel had I known how extreme the conditions would become.

Scarcely had we found the shelter of the first of the trees that delineate the borders of my Ada’s realm before the wind picked up and the snow began to fall.

Less than half a day on from that Arod could scarcely lift his feet high enough to avoid the drifts of snow we were encountering. I had dismounted an hour or so before, to try and lead him through the worst of the drifts but even I was struggling. Gimli offered to walk with me to spare Arod his burden, but had he attempted to make his way through those heavy snow banks Gimli would have found moving forward impossible. Even when the Fellowship traversed cruel Caradhras we did not meet with such formidable obstacles. If we were to meet the dawn of the Solstice we must find shelter of some kind.

We were only hours away from the turning of the year, a time my folk consider sacred, yet there was no way we could find our way back to the stronghold.

Above the howling of the wind I heard Gimli asking if there was somewhere we could seek respite. I attempted to centre myself and to find where we were. At the edge of my consciousness I sensed a shelter, perhaps half a league or more from our present position. It was little more than a cleft in the rocks that the warriors had made use of while on patrol, but it would offer us sanctuary from that unnatural storm. I was all too aware that while I might survive that vile weather, Gimli and Arod may not.

Turning Arod I set off through the failing light towards an outcropping of rock all the time hoping that the warrior patrols would have left the shelter with the basics needed for survival; wood for a fire, fodder for the horses and perhaps dried meat to provide a hot meal.

I should never have pleaded with my friend to set out for home. It was suicidal.  Should things turn out ill I would have no one to blame save myself. That thought more so than any other, including the upcoming Solstice, pervaded my thoughts.  What was I about to insist that we set out for the stronghold?  We were welcome guests in Edoras and could have seen in the return of the light there without any difficult. Yet I wanted to go home to Ada, and Gimli seeing my need had agreed to our journey. Now, at best we would spend a cold miserable Solstice in a hole in the ground that masqueraded as a cave. At worst we may founder in the snow and be lost forever.

That at least I could seek to avoid.  It was my responsibility to see my friend to a safe place. Beyond that it would be up to me to provide food and warmth as best I could, and should I be able to conjure up some level of basic comfort then that would be the least I could do.

Through the deepening gloom and cold sleeting ice, I saw ahead of us the shelter.  Stumbling and scrambling, we climbed the steep incline and slipped through two slices of mountain stone to the small dry cave beyond. I am not sure which of us was the more relieved, me, Gimli or Arod, who stamped his feet and shook his head to rid it of the frozen snow that coated his mane and tail.

Gimli clambered off Arod’s back and peered around in the gloom “Well it may not be home lad, but it has to be better than what we were experiencing outside. Is this one of your warrior’s outposts?”

“It is, and we are fortunate to have found it this night. I will see to Arod first, if you will set the fire“ 

Gimli looked at me in surprise. “A fire is too much of a risk Lamb; I have dry clothing in my pack that will do for me.”

Although he hid it well I could see that Gimli was shivering. The intense cold had chilled him to the bone, and I would not have him suffer further. “I believe we may risk a fire tonight.  Nothing will stir in the woods in this weather, and a hot meal will be welcome for both of us. There should be a tin trunk here somewhere which hopefully will contain dry kindling and wood, ah here it is.”

I pushed the trunk over the middle of the cave, then before Gimli could argue with me over the need for a fire. I began to rub Arod down with a handful of dry bracken that had been laid at the back of the cave. Keeping my eyes fixed on Arod, I breathed a little easier when I heard Gimli lift the lid and begin to set the fire. I would rather not argue with him over the need for warmth but I would do should it become necessary. Tough as he is my friend is mortal and I had seen the effects of extreme weather on his kind. I would not have him suffer more than was necessary.

“Trust the elves” I heard him mutter and turned back to see what it was he had found. He was holding up dried vegetables and grains as well as cooking implements. “It may not be a feast Lad, but we will have a meal of some kind to see in the Solstice.”

“I had hoped we might find something,” I told him, looking down into the trunk and noting how little wood was there. There was not enough to keep a fire going all night which was disappointing but I could remedy that if I could just escape Gimli’s care long enough.

“Why do you not begin to prepare our meal, and change your clothes while I go and fill our water skins.”

“Can we not just use snow?”

“There is a stream nearby. I would prefer to use that.” I answered while picking up my bow and the water skins. I lifted a hand to forestall his objections, for I could see he was less than happy, and hurried to fasten my cloak and step beyond the cave entrance before he could veto my going.

 “Take no risks and do not be too long,” he called after me and I waved a hand in answer. I did not tell him but I had no intention of returning until I had sufficient wood to keep the fire burning merrily all through the night and I also hoped to scare up some game so that our meal would have fresh meat. It seemed the least I could do to make up to him for missing a proper feast in my father’s halls.

It took me far longer to fulfil these two goals than I would have liked but I was eventually successful and had sufficient dry wood for the fire and a rather scrawny but edible hare for the pot. I could only hope that these prizes would be sufficient to dent some of Gimli’s anger.

The sky was now full of snow, and although it was not late it was as dark as night. The cold, which was biting when we first reached the cave, had become raw. Carrying the wood as I was in my cloak to keep it dry, I was actually beginning to feel its effects. My breath froze and my lungs hurt as I drew in the glacial air. I would be happy to get out of the worst of that unnatural weather. Even the relative warmth of the shelter would be welcome to me.

I looked up towards the cave entrance and saw Gimli’s familiar form standing wrapped in his cloak. Even from this distance I could see that he is almost incandescent with rage at my prolonged absence. A rage that I knew had more to do with worry for my safety rather than anger itself.

I waved the hare at him and he answered by gesticulating furiously to hurry up. He all but exploded as I stepped beyond him and he pushed the dry brush that we used to partially block the entrance into place.

“Where have ye been?” Gimli demanded.

Dropping the wood beside the fire pit I turned to smile and found myself being fixed with the sort of glower that was sufficiently threatening as to make me swallow nervously. “I have brought wood.” I gestured at the spilled firewood.

“Ye said ye were going for water.”

“I … got that as well.” I lifted the water skins from my belt.

“And it was so far away that it took all this time? I said ye were not to be long as I recall.”

“It was not that long for an elf.” I cringed when my response was met with a deep-throated rumble, for commenting on the apparent superiority of my race has never gone down well with my dwarven guardian. “And … and I shot a hare for the pot!  We will be warm and well fed tonight after all.”

“Oh I think I can guarantee your being warm, Laddie” Gimli growled taking a step towards me.

I hurried to place the fire between us, but he was quicker even than I and grabbed my arm, spun me around and landed several solid swats on my backside.

“Ow .. Gimli!” I squirmed and attempted to escape his hand but he was determined to make his views known, and it was not until he had made his point and my rear was stinging that he finally let me go. My hand went back to rub away the sting and I realized I was still holding the hare which I held out to him as a peace offering.

“What were ye thinking ye foolish elfling?” he demanded even as he took the animal and began to prepare it for cooking.

“I … I just wanted to make up a little to you for getting us in this situation,” I answered warily, for I could tell he was still angry. “And I … I wanted us to have something with which to see in the Solstice and sufficient wood to keep us warm through the night. The cold is unnatural Gimli; it is fiercer and deeper than I have ever known. Even here in the shelter we may have been at risk. I wanted to keep you safe.”

He looked up at me then, his dark eyes fixed on my face, “ye wanted to keep me safe and so ye placed yourself at risk?”

I hung my head, suddenly shy “You look after me so often Gimli. Is it so wrong of me to want to return the compliment occasionally? I was not at risk I swear and I was already on my way back to you when I caught the hare. Please do not be angry with me any longer.  It is Solstice night.”

“Ye should not have done it,” He scolded but I could see he was pleased with my answer. “But I will not deny this hare will make our meal a deal more palatable. But heed me, Lamb, ye are not to do anything like it again.”

“I will try not to,” I answered although we both knew that I would if I thought it was necessary.

After we had eaten we got out our bedrolls. There was little chance of any foul creatures or beasts being on the prowl so we relaxed together. When Gimli lifted an arm I moved closer and allowed my head to lie on his shoulder while he stroked my hair and we watched the light from the flames flicker on the cave wall.

“Ye are a good lad,” he informed me, “daft but good hearted.”

“And you are a good friend,” I replied then felt the need to add “I am sorry I got us into this mess and we have missed the Solstice celebrations.”

I yelped as Gimli’s free hand landed on my rear end. “Enough of that!  There is nowhere I would sooner be, or no one I would sooner spend this night with. It matters little to me where we are as long as we are together.”

“Thank you,” I returned “And I am happy to be here with you.  We are warm, well fed and safe.  It is a pity we have no gifts to exchange though.”

Once again Gimli surprised me “I don’t know about you lamb, but I have my gift right here: you and your friendship.  Now get some sleep, and do not tell me you are not tired for I can sense the weariness in you.”

He leaned over and kissed my brow, “Joyous Solstice lamb.”

“Joyous Solstice Elvellon” I replied and despite our situation so it proved to be.

 

“That was quite a night,” I say.  Gimli drains his goblet and I hasten to refill it for him.

“It was lad, but the morning was beautiful as I recall.  We watched the sunrise over the tops of the trees and celebrated the return of the sun together and you sang that glorious song of welcome to the light.  It fair made me want to weep. Sing it for me now lamb while we finish this wine.”

I oblige him but only after he has promised me another story when I finish for I do love to hear Gimli retelling stories of our times together and we still have another bottle of wine to drink after this one.

 

 


	4. chapter 4

 

I close my eyes and focus on my friend’s voice.  The last time he sang this song for me, in that little  outpost in the woods I almost wept with gratitude that we were still together after he had given me such a scare the day before.  It was not the first or the last time, but I knew back then in that storm, I could never have found him had something happened.  I recall the helplessness I felt that day looking out into the blinding snow and the relief, that turned to joy and then to fury all within seconds.  He has always been able to bring out conflicting emotions in me more than any other, though by now I have become more accustomed to it.  As I listen to him now I am just as thankful and more so, than I was that day, for times like these are precious and something we will remember for a long time.  The song has even more meaning for me today than it did back then for now I am better able to understand the lyrics and get the full meaning of it.  The melody is lovely and his voice is almost bell like in its clarity. It seems to me that I have never heard a more exquisite voice, but then again perhaps the wine has heightened my senses and made me more sentimental than usual.  We’ve certainly had a lot of it seems since we are well into the second bottle by now. 

“We enjoyed the turn of the year that time in spite of everything,” I say as the last notes fade away.

“Indeed we did,” Legolas agrees, “though the feasting should be some better this year.  That was a pretty meagre meal.”

“That is so, Lad,” I snort, “yet it was more of a feast than you partook of that first Solstice in Ithilien!”

Legolas laughs through a groan.  “Oh Gimli, don’t remind me of that,” he says wrapping his arm protectively over his stomach in memory of the event in question, for that Solstice night he was only able to manage a bit of weak tea in celebration of the day.  That was the year that we discovered two things: politeness carried too far can be detrimental to your health, and humans have some strange ideas about what should be considered edible. 

It all began about two days before the Solstice celebration.  That year I spent more time in Ithilien than I did in my own home, for I was busy helping my elfling build his new house and get started in his new role as Lord there.  We were both pleased to be hosting our first guests for the holidays.  Faramir and Eowyn had just arrived with their new son, and with them Mistress Hild who had become a great friend to my mother when she was visiting Minas Tirith.  Mistress Hild was a widow from Rohan who had settled in the White City and then moved on to Ithilien to work in Emyn Arnen.  She had proven to be a great benefit to us in our early days there before Mam left and we were quite pleased to be welcoming her along with the others. 

After having greeted the guests and sent them off to their quarters, Legolas and I were sitting together in the family dining room discussing plans for the next couple of days and had just agreed that we would both prefer a less formal celebration than would take place in Eryn Lasgalen considering that the house was only partially finished and it would be too difficult to arrange a more traditional party around our construction.  We were just about to open a bottle of wine and drink to that idea, when Mistress Hild came in bearing a package wrapped in white fabric and tied with a red ribbon. 

“Just the folks I’ve been looking for,” she said, cheerfully plunking her package down on the table.  “I made this for you as a token of my appreciation for your fine hospitality.  I hope you enjoy it!”

With that, she turned and exited the room leaving us to open her gift.  Legolas picked it up and began to untie the ribbon.  “It is very heavy, whatever it is,” he noted, pulling the fabric away and then setting it with a solid thud back on the table.  I had never seen anything like it and by the confused look on my elfling’s face, I could see he hadn’t either.   It was perfectly square and brown and about the size of two bricks lined up side by side.  Little shiny bits of red and green could be seen scattered throughout it.  It was quite a puzzle indeed.

“What is it?”  Legolas asked, obviously at a loss.

I picked it up, and found it to be as heavy as the bricks it resembled, though not quite as hard on the outside. 

“A paperweight?”  I guessed. 

Legolas shook his head, “No it’s too big.  A doorstop perhaps? Or a plant stand?”

“If it is then it isn’t a very attractive one.  Could it be a step stool?”

Legolas looked at me sceptically, “Maybe, but that seems an odd gift.  What do you think it is made out of it?”

I looked at it critically, “It looks almost like a stone, but it isn’t any sort of stone I’ve ever seen.  Maybe it is some kind of clay compound.”

“We could just leave it here and maybe someone will come along and make a comment on its use so we can figure it out without offending Mistress Hild,” he suggested.  I just nodded.  It was as good a suggestion as anything I could come up with at that moment. It wasn’t long before our plan was successful.  Faramir came in having cleaned up from his trip and now in the mood for company.  We offered him a glass of wine and spent some time catching up with the news, but all the time we were hoping he would clue us in on what was the use of this odd gift.  He didn’t let us down.   As he stood to make ready to leave, he noticed the strange object on the table.

“Ah, I see Mistress Hild has given you her gift.  You are very fortunate indeed for she makes the best I’ve ever had.  Do you mind?” he inclined his head toward the mysterious object.

Legolas caught my eye. This was our chance. We began to talk at the same time.  “Please, by all means…”  “Absolutely, Lad, ye’re more than welcome…”

Faramir smiled and removed the knife at his belt, and we watched in amazement as he began to hack away at Mistress Hild’s gift.  He cut a thick slice and lifted it up to his face sniffing deeply the aroma and then taking a large bite. 

“Delicious,” he pronounced and then cut another generous slice.  “For Eowyn,” he explained. “She’d never forgive me if I showed up with a piece of Mistress Hild’s fruitcake without bringing her one as well.  You don’t mind do you?”

Ah a fruitcake!  Now that was a head scratcher, for I never would have thought it to be something to eat.  After Faramir departed us, we began to examine it again.

“I’ve never seen a fruitcake before,” Legolas said frowning at the concoction, “it looks…I cannot think of words to describe it.  It looks interesting…. weird I guess…in a disgusting sort of way.”

I laughed at this description for it wasn’t far from what I was thinking, but then again Faramir seemed to enjoy it, so perhaps we shouldn’t be too hasty to judge. 

“Now, Lad I think we should at least try it before we decide. Faramir says it is the best he’s ever had.”

Legolas shrugged and cut a slice, breaking it in half to share with me.  We both took a bite at the same time.  The tasted was like nothing I’ve ever experienced before.   It was only a small bite, but the more I chewed it the more it seems to grow in my mouth.  The texture was somehow dense and slimy at the same time and I was no more able to identify the red and green bits by taste than I was by sight.  I managed to swallow the gelatinous blob without gagging, but not by much.  Legolas hadn’t fared much better. Having choked down his bite, he was now rinsing his mouth with wine to remove the lingering aftertaste. 

“If that’s the best Fruitcake Faramir has ever had, I’d be terrified to taste the worst!”  he asserted and I had to agree.

  That first taste of fruitcake was terrible, but the worst was yet to come.

The next day we returned to the dining room to break our fast with the guests and found the fruitcake still where we had left it in the middle of the table.  Legolas was reaching for it to remove it from the table just as Mistress Hild came sailing in the room.  Seeing him reaching for her cake, a smile lit up her whole face, for she imagined him to be anxious to cut a slice to eat.  A good amount of that cake was gone already because of the two large slices Faramir had cut the day before, so that was even more evidence that her host had enjoyed her gift. 

Now my elfling, being too fair of face for his own safety, has always had an interesting affect on females of all races and ages.  The younger ones seem to simper and giggle in his presence, while the older ones become motherly, wanting to pat his cheek or feed him.  Mistress Hild was no different.  She clapped her hands together in delight. 

“I see you have already been enjoying my Yule cake,” she exclaimed joyfully.

Legolas smiled at her and said, “It was so thoughtful of you to bring it Mistress Hild.”

Mistress Hild positively lit up with joy, “Ah it was my pleasure to do so, Dear,” she cooed,  “Tell me what do you think of it?”

Legolas sent me one desperate glance before figuring out how to respond without outright lying, “I can honestly say it is the best one I’ve ever had.”

That was a fatal mistake.  Mistress Hild flushed with pleasure.  “Please, do not let me interrupt you.  Go ahead and have a slice.  No, no a tiny piece like that won’t do at all,” she said taking the knife from him and cutting an extra generous slice and then sitting down to watch him enjoy it.

Legolas looked helplessly down at the daunting task before him and I feared he would have to break down and tell poor Mistress Hild the truth. I hated to see her heart broken in such a fashion, but I could see no way around it.  But my brave elfling was not so easily defeated as that.  He closed his eyes as if to centre himself, set his jaw, and boldly set to the mission.  To this day I do not know how he managed it. 

He hid it well from Mistress Hild, but I could see he was struggling with each bite, though he soldiered on until the last crumb was gone.  Mistress Hild was nearly giddy with joy over his apparent enjoyment of her confection and Legolas offered her a weak but triumphant smile.  The smiled became frozen on his face as soon as the enthusiastic lady again reached to cut another slice and laid it in front of him with a great ceremony.

“I am so flattered that you like it, I take it as a great compliment.  Please have another one.”

“Should we not save it for the others…” he began, but she held up her hand to stay his objections.

“No please, I insist.  I can make another one that can be shared.  This was my dear late grandmother’s recipe and it brings great joy to my old heart to find someone who appreciates it as much as I,” she said, removing a lace edged handkerchief from her pocket and wiping a tear from the corner of her eye. 

I knew the poor lad was doomed for he would never be able to crush the dear kind lady’s heart.  There was nothing else for it.   He closed his eyes, swallowed convulsively several times and then broke off a small piece of the cake.  By the third bite I could see a fine sheen of perspiration had broken out on his face and I knew I would have to do something.  I couldn’t bear to see him suffer any longer. 

“Mistress Hild,” I called out loudly, “did you notice the painting on the wall behind you?  It was a gift from the Lady Galadriel herself!  Mam was quite fond of it.  You must have a look.”

When she turned in her chair to admire the art, I quickly nabbed the remaining slice of cake and slipped it into my pocket.

“It is quite lovely!” she began, before noticing that her champion had already finished the second helping of cake.  “That was fast indeed,” she said smiling broadly.  “How about a third?”

Legolas’ expression reminded me something of a rabbit caught in a trap.  He looked absolutely panicked to me and I truly feared we were about to see that cake for a second time if I did not act fast. 

“Mistress Hild’s cake will still be here when we are finished with our business this morning,” I mock scolded him.  “There is no need to be so greedy, Lad.  We have things to do.”

“Do you not intend to dine with your visitors?” Mistress Hild asked in confusion.

“I wish it were possible, Mistress,” I tell her, “but we’ve pressing matters to attend to this morning…plans for the celebration…yes that’s it!  Come Lad, make haste!”

With that I grasped him by the arm and propelled him from the chair and out of the room.  “Take shallow breaths, Child, and hold on!” I advised, as we hurried down the corridor toward his personal rooms.  As soon as we entered the rooms I thrust a basin into his hands and watched helplessly as he retched violently into it.  When it was all over, I handed him a wet cloth to wipe his face, which he accepted with a trembling hand.  Pale as he had become, he still looked some better than he had moments ago. 

“Thank you, Elvellon,” he said weakly, wiping his watery eyes, “your quick thinking saved me.”

“I’m only sorry I didn’t think of it sooner, Lamb,” I tell him guiding him to lie down on the settee.  “Perhaps ye should rest for a while. I’d hate to think ye made it safely through the war only to be brought down by a strange human dessert.  As far as I can see, a fruitcake is a very dangerous thing. Ye must never attempt to take one on again!” 

“You must think me a terrible weakling,” he said settling against the cushions. “Who ever heard of an elf being defeated by baked goods?”

 “On the contrary, Laddie. Had I eaten as much of that vile concoction as you did, you’d be laying me out for burial tonight instead of toasting the Solstice.  I admire your fortitude more than ever before! Now just close your eyes for a bit and perhaps ye’ll still be able to make the festivities this evening.”

Thank goodness for rapid elvish healing, because that evening Legolas was not only able to make the celebrations, but also took the lead in making all the appropriate welcoming speeches and toasts. I alone knew that his goblet held nothing but tepid weak tea. Anything stronger might have been his undoing.  There were many good wishes that evening, and all had a good time though I overheard Mistress Hild whisper to Lady Eowyn that were Lady Vonild here, their poor host wouldn’t look so run down. This said while eyeing me coldly as if his condition were my fault. 

“The worst of it is that she still believes I adore her fruitcake and makes a special effort to send me one every Solstice,” Legolas says, beginning to chuckle.

“What do you do with them all?  Surely you haven’t attempted to eat one again?” 

“Oh no. I’m not that foolish, no matter what others may think.  I have them all stacked in a closet.  Those things _never_ spoil, Gimli.  Perhaps after I’ve collected enough of them I’ll make a wall to go around the back garden,” he laughs.

“It would certainly be colorful,” I admit.  “And solid.  Too bad we didn’t know about those things back when I was repairing the city’s gates! They’d be impenetrable!” 

Legolas is definitely giggling by now though I’m certain I would be told that warriors never giggle were I to point that out.  That thought along with the thought of the wall of Yule cakes sets me off as well and before I know it we are both shaking with laughter so much that I can barely pour the last of the wine into our glasses. 

Wiping tears of mirth from his eyes, my elfling staggers to his feet and makes his way over to the window and opens the shutters.

“Elvellon, look! Can you believe it?”

I stumble over next to him to see what has him so excited to find it has begun to snow.  Big soft flakes fill the air and rapidly cover everything in sight.  Already I can no longer see the ground and it does not appear to be slowing down.  We will be buried by morning.  I smile to think that he is able to find such childlike delight in such a simple thing. 

“Aye, Lamb, It is lovely!  A perfect ending for our evening!” 

But then again, I’m not so sure I want this evening to end just yet…

 

 

 

 

 


	5. Chapter 5

 

I shudder at the remembrance of that foul concoction humans call Yule Cake, and even now I cannot look on similar confections without recalling forcing myself to eat all that cake. There are times when having good manners is something of a trial and that day was one of them.

Although the idea of turning those foul cakes into defences for the city makes me begin to giggle and once started I find I cannot stop.  I decide to go to the windows to get some fresh air for it would not do for folk to realize that a prince of the Sindar, son of Thranduil and one of the Nine Walkers giggles! I open the shutters and I realize that it is snowing.

Large flakes float past me falling ever faster and thicker, covering the courtyard of the White Tree below us in a carpet of pristine white. Before long it will be completely blanketed and with the cold there will likely be icy patches perfect for sliding. My eyes light up and I turn to Gimli who is still sitting snugly by the fire.

“Elvellon, look! Can you believe it?” I call to him.  Seeing I wish for his attention he makes his way over to my side.

He stares solemnly at the night sky thick with snow “Aye, Lamb, It is lovely!  A perfect ending for our evening!” 

I look back outside and the urge to go out and dance among the snowflakes grows within me.

“Does it have to end now?” I ask giving Gimli my patented sweet elfling look. “We could go down … just for a moment or two of course.”

I can see that Gimli is wavering, so I bat my eyelashes at him, “please Elvellon.”

He hesitates a moment or two longer before capitulating.

“Well a bit of fresh air might be welcome I suppose,” He growls, “but I will need my cloak.”

“I will get it for you.” I hurry to his chamber and pick up his Fellowship cloak while he dresses and finds his boots.

I pull on my own boots and, knowing that if I do not at least put on a tunic Gimli will likely insist on my wearing my cloak as well, I don a thick padded tunic and then hurry to the door and open it for Gimli to precede me outside.

The hallways are quiet and empty, for most sensible folk have long ago taken to their beds. It is just as well that Gimli and I are not sensible. We find a side door that takes us out into the night and while Gimli remains under the portico sheltering from the weather I spring out into the courtyard like a bird freed from a cage.

My feet dance and I twirl and laugh as snowflakes fall on my hair and upraised face. I raise my hands high and leap onto the edge of the snow encased retaining wall and proceed to run along it, even as Gimli demands that I desist at once.

“Get down at once ye foolish elfling.” His tone is a nice mixture of exasperation and trepidation.

“I am in no danger of falling,” I call back jumping up onto the embrasure that juts out over the eastern face of the Hill of Guard and looking out over the city some seven hundred feet below me.

“Ye will be falling over my knee, Mettarë or no.”

Gimli, obviously tired of my intransigence, has hurried over to where I am standing and is now clutching the back of my tunic.

A sharp tug brings me back to the ground and I swing round and see he is looking worried. I do not wish him to become upset so I offer him a contrite smile and then brush his beard clean of the falling snow. “Your beard is turning white,” I tell him.

“Not surprising given the fool elf I have in my charge,” He grumbles, “Now unless ye wish to be taken back inside, ye will be a damn sight more careful.”

“I will I promise,” I kiss the end of his nose and then dart away across the courtyard, before letting myself slide the rest of the way to where the white tree stands. “Come Gimli,” I challenge, “I am sure you will not be able to slide as far as I have done.”

I do not think he will take up the challenge but a light comes to his eyes and he charges towards me, his deep chuckles filling the air as he slides across the courtyard.

We spend some time skidding and sliding across the courtyard amused at our energetic attempts to keep upright by flapping our arms and our occasional failures to do so. Sometimes we end up sliding on our rear ends causing us to fall into fits of laughter. It is a very long time since I last indulged in such childish pursuits and longer still for my friend, I suspect, yet our pleasure in such simple activity could not be greater.

Eventually, though, I see Gimli is beginning to tire and I am well aware that for him to be out in such cold for a long period would not be wise. From the position of the stars I see it will not be long until dawn so I suggest that we go back indoors and seek our beds.

As Gimli hangs up his cloak and removes his wet boots again I pull a hot poker from the fire and slip it into two goblets of wine to heat it through, for there is one more thing I want to do before I wish my friend a good night.

I pick up a gaily wrapped parcel that I had placed to one side with the many others that I will distribute at Mettarë tomorrow, or I should say today since Ithil is waning fast and dawn is not many hours away, and hold it out to Gimli.

“Happy Solstice Elvellon”

He takes my proffered gift in both hands and proceeds to examine it thoroughly and I find I am almost bouncing on the tips of my toes so anxious am I for him to open it. 

I thought long and hard on what to give him, and eventually decided upon a new pipe. For I know the one he habitually uses was damaged recently. So, I found a piece of hard burr wood and then have fashioned him a new one. It has a long curved stem, carved with intertwined ivy leaves and dwarfish runes picked out in gold against the richly burnished wood. The base of the bowl I have carved to resemble the trunk of an oak tree, the spreading branches above it make the bowl itself.

I do hope he will like it.

Gimli keeps me waiting for an answer of course, and I know his hesitation and ponderings on ‘what could this be I wonder?’ are deliberate for his dark eyes are gleaming and his lips twitch as I urge him to open it and see.

Finally he stops teasing, gives in, and unwraps my gift, laying aside the rich velvet it had been covered in carefully. Then he holds the pipe up to the lantern so he can see it more clearly and the smile he gives me when he has done so tells me he is pleased. “Did ye make this?” he asks.

I nod

“It is beautiful lamb,” he caresses the stem and then puts it into his mouth to take one or two practice draws before nodding again in satisfaction. “I thank ye. I will treasure it and not just for the hours of craftsmanship ye have obviously lavished upon it but for the kindliness of the thought and the fact that it was made with love.”

I blush at this praise and mutter that I am glad he likes it, and then allow myself to relax and sip my own mulled wine and gaze a little hazily into the fire. Whatever tomorrow brings it will not surpass this evening I have spent with my friend.

 

 

xxxxx

 

As much as I would like to refute it I am rarely able to deny any request that is accompanied by doe eyes and sweet cajoling words.  It is a tactic that has been successfully used against me time and again by my clever charge.  It is a weakness that has caused me some difficulty from time to time, but I cannot seem to help myself. It is not always so for I have been able to set my jaw and say no to the big-eye ploy when the occasion calls for it, but in most cases I am as putty in his hands. At times I wonder which one of us is really in charge here, though that thought will never pass my lips.  Tonight was no different, which is why I found myself sliding across the courtyard and laughing like a school child instead of climbing into my bed like any sensible person would do on such a cold stormy night as this. 

So thank goodness for doe eyes because this was an evening neither of us will ever forget.  I am happy we had this time together for it does my heart good to see my elfling so light-hearted and carefree.  At times like these I am hopeful that the deep scars we all carry will be able to fade completely after enough time has passed.  There is healing in that sort of playfulness and I am delighted to partake in childish pursuits if it pleases my friend for me to do so.  It was worth it to see the unadulterated joy in his face. 

Of course now we have to make it back inside past the guards with as much decorum as possible, something that isn’t easy considering our boots are slick so that we keep sliding on the marble floor, which makes us laugh, which makes us lose our balance even more.  The copious amounts of wine we’ve partaken of all evening hasn’t helped much either.  It is also hard to feel dignified when I can feel where tiny icicles have formed from my breath freezing just below my nose so that my moustache is dripping down the front of my face.  Looking at me sets Legolas off into great peals of laughter and I have to join him when I get a good look at him as well, for his loose hair is half covering his face and sticking out at odd angles on one side.  We make it back inside without any questions being asked, but we’ve left one citadel guard with something to wonder over at least.

Once inside, I hang my dripping cloak up, don dry clothing and meet my friend back by the fire, to find him nearly ready to explode with some excitement or other. I am about to ask him what sort of mischief he is planning now, when I notice the package he is holding.  It is a Solstice gift he has brought for me, and it is obvious he cannot wait another moment for me to open it!  I find his impatience rather adorable, though using that particular word to describe him likely wouldn’t go over well at all.  So instead I tease him a bit by taking my time about opening the gift, looking at it from all sides and shaking it as if trying to figure out what could be inside.  When it seems that he won’t be able to take it any longer, I open the brightly wrapped package and carefully lift out a beautifully carved pipe.  

It is a true work of art  and something I will always treasure because I know it was painstakingly crafted especially with me in mind.  Legolas flushes with delight at my words of praise and thanks and then hands me a warmed goblet of wine and settles back on the rug in front of the fire with his own.  It surely must be time to call it a night, but I have a couple of things to do first.  He is not the only one who has been busy, for I have a gift for him hidden in a dresser drawer, and I also want to do something else.  I admire the pipe for a bit and decide I really must try it tonight.

“If I am going to begin using this lovely gift at the Mettarë celebration tomorrow, I must begin breaking it in tonight,” I tell him.  With that I go to my own bedchamber and bring out a pouch of pipeweed, place his gift in my pocket and head back out to where there is a pitcher of water.  I put just a little into the pipe and run it all the way through before packing the bowl one-third full of pipeweed.  The cold water will keep the pipe from getting too hot while it is still new. 

Legolas watches, fascinated, as I light the pipe and take a long continuous draw to distribute a nice even carbon layer over the inside bowl and stem.   It doesn’t take long to smoke the little bit of pipe weed and then set the pipe down on the table beside my chair.

“Now I just have to let it cool and smoke half a bowlful in the morning, and it should be broken in enough to use in the evening. Aye a good pipe must be carefully seasoned and such a beautiful piece as this deserves to be treated with tender care,” I say picking it up to admire again.    Legolas is clearly pleased by my reaction to his carefully planned gift and seems to be perfectly content to lean back against my legs again and sip at the warmed wine. 

After a while, he suggests that perhaps we should seek out beds, but I do not attempt to get up.  Instead I just clear my throat and wait for him to turn toward me.

“What?” He asks, eyeing me suspiciously.

I wink and pat my pocket.  “Well there _is_ one more thing,” I say.

“You have something for me don’t you?  Well let’s have it!”  He is nearly as impatient to receive his gift as he was for me to open mine, which is something I find endearing and amusing.  Again I do not express that thought, but I cannot help laughing when he orders me to ‘hand it over.”

“Now, now, Lad.  Ye must be patient,” I tell him, “learn to take the time to savour things.  Good things come to those who wait, ye know, and anything worth having is worth waiting for.  Besides patience is a virtue…” 

I try to continue with my wise advice when I am abruptly assaulted by a lapful of elf, who rather brusquely invades my shirt pocket and robs me of my belongings.   

“Well I never!  Such presumption!” I pretend scold, “I never thought ye to be a thief.”

“You deserved it for teasing,” he tells me and then gasps as he pulls out what is inside the silk packet in his hand. “You made this? It is quite beautiful.”

 He carefully examines the cloak clasp I have made from a bit of mithril and gold.  It has a traditional hook and eye design and is shaped as a pair of holly leaves, pressed out thin and then polished and trimmed in green gold.  Tiny round rubies represent the holly berries, three on each leaf, so that when it is hooked it looks like two leaves end on end. It being made of Mithril means that this clasp is light enough to be used on the softest silk or cotton cape, and strong enough to be used on the heaviest wool cloak.  It is something I had hoped to be both beautiful and practical. 

“Happy Solstice, Lamb,” I say and am rewarded with a pair of arms wrapping around my neck and a peck on the forehead.

“Thank you, Elvellon,” he says starting to rise, but I place an arm across his legs preventing him from moving away for a moment.  I reach to pull his head against my shoulder. 

“Tomorrow we will enjoy Mettarë with our friends, but I want ye to know, the real Solstice for me happened here this night.  I will never forget it.” 

He only smiles and relaxes against me, clutching the cloak clasp in one hand and closing his eyes. I stare into the flames, thinking how quickly the years have passed since we met.  They have been good years, the best of my life. After a while his breathing becomes deep and even and I realilize I have kept him too long; the festivities and the wine have taken their toll.  I should wake him up and send him on to bed, but for some reason I am in no hurry to do so.  I move a bit to get more comfortable and close my eyes as well.  Perhaps in just a moment more…

End

 

 

 


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